The Mechanic's Story
by rembeau
Summary: A general CSI Vegas story crime mystery genre . Very early time line, so absolutely no plot spoilers. All the normal characters, plus one original character of my own creation. This is my first ever fan fic, so please be gentle. Rated M for safety
1. Chapter 1

**The mechanic's story**

**Chapter 1**

It was past the end of shift and the sun was already rising when Grissom and Catherine made for the break room. Warrick and Nick were already sat at the table, drinking coffee. Catherine regarded the younger CSIs critically. They looked drained. "Jeez guys. You two look like you've been on your case for days, not hours."

"Shot gun blast to the head," Warrick said flatly.

"Gross." Catherine tried to look sympathetic while fighting back a yawn.

"So how's your case going?" Nick peered at Catherine over his coffee cup.

"Looks like the guy dropped dead from heart failure."

"And we're involved because?"

"Because the wife says he's perfectly healthy and is insisting he must have been poisoned," explained Catherine.

"We're waiting for the results of the autopsy," added Grissom, passing a cup of coffee to Catherine.

Brass wandered into the break room. "Hey guys." The CSIs all nodded a greeting back. He handed the sheet of paper he was holding to Warrick. "Here's your list of occupants at the apartment block. Only one of them has a record of any note. Remember the next door neighbor, Dave Watson?" Warrick nodded. "Well, he's got a couple of assault charges against him. Seems he gets angry when he's drunk." Warrick smiled and nodded.

Brass turned his attention to his ringing cell phone. "Brass. ... Yeah, I am. Why? ...... You're kidding me. ... Okay, you're not kidding me. Where are you?" He fished his pen and pad out of his jacket pocket and quickly jotted down an address. "Stay put, I'll be right over." He looked up with a lopsided grin on his face. "Anyone up for some overtime?"

******

Grissom parked the Tahoe behind Brass's Taurus outside the apartment block. "So what did Brass say this was?" asked Catherine.

"A DB in a swimming pool," answered Grissom as he flashed his badge to the uniformed officer at the door.

"You can take the elevator to the 5th floor," said the officer, opening the door to allow them access to the building.

"We're here for the DB in the pool," clarified Catherine.

"Yes Ma'am. You can take the elevator to the 5th floor," repeated the officer.

Grissom and Catherine exchanged puzzled looks, but they took the elevator to the 5th floor as instructed. "I thought you said this was a body in a swimming pool," muttered Catherine.

"That's what Jim said," confirmed Grissom.

"But we're going to the fifth floor."

"I noticed."

They showed their badges to the second uniformed officer, who opened a doorway onto a roof terrace. There they stopped and stared in disbelief.

"That's a swimming pool, right?" asked Catherine.

"Yes, that's definitely a pool."

"But we're on the fifth floor."

"Yes."

"And that looks like a car in the pool."

"Again, yes."

Brass was deep in conversation with a young man by the side of the pool when he saw Grissom and Catherine. He walked over to them. "Glad you could join us. Did you bring your bikini?"

Catherine smiled. "No, I seem to have left it at home. You said a DB in a pool Jim."

"That's right," agreed Brass.

"You didn't say the pool was on the fifth floor."

Brass smirked. "Didn't I? Sorry. Must have slipped my mind."

"And that looks more like a car than a body," added Grissom.

"True, but there is a body."

Catherine scanned the pool and the surrounding area. "Where?"

"In the car."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me we've got a dead body in a car in a swimming pool on the fifth floor of an apartment building?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Brass led Grissom and Catherine over to the young man at the side of the pool. "Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows from the Crime Lab, this is Mark Scott. He found the body. Maybe you ought to explain it Mark." Brass was trying hard not to grin, but he was failing miserably.

Mark shrugged. "Okay. We got a call...."

"We?" Grissom looked at Mark properly for the first time. Young with short blonde hair, baggy jeans with a couple of oil stains, sneakers, gray tee-shirt, damp.

Brass grinned again. "Try it with details Junior."

Mark grinned back at him. "Okay. I've been working at Hendersons Garage for the past week as a mechanic. Mainly vehicle retrievals. You know, car breaks down, we tow it in." Grissom nodded. "So this morning we got a call from a Mr Hopkins, who wanted a car removed from his pool. Apparently they get 9 or 10 calls like that a year. Go figure. Anyway, everyone else was busy, so I got the job. When I got here, the guy on reception, John, or at least that's what his badge says, he brought me up here, which kinda threw me a bit. I mean, no-one mentioned the pool was a rooftop job. But there's a pool, and there's a car in there, and I'm guessing it ain't a standard feature." Catherine couldn't hide the smile as she got the camera out of her field kit and started to photograph the scene. "Well I've never retrieved a car from a pool before, but I'd asked the other mechanics at the garage before I left, and they said the first thing to do is to work out where to attach some straps or ropes so you can lift the car out. So I got in the pool to take a look. I mean, I know this isn't a normal job, but I didn't know what else to do. Anyway, I dived down to check for an attachment point, maybe the front axle or something, and there's a dead guy in the driver's seat. That's when I called Brass."

"So where is Mr Hopkins?" asked Grissom.

"At work apparently," said Brass. "I've sent someone over to get a statement from him."

"And the doors to the apartment are fully locked and secured," said Mark. At the questioning look that Grissom shot him he added, "Well that's what John told me. Twice." Brass smirked.

Catherine pointed to a puddle of water by the pool. "Is this where you got out of the pool Mr Scott?"

"Yeah. In and out. And no I didn't touch the car. And call me Mark."

"So do we have a name for our vic?" Grissom asked Brass.

"Not yet." Brass looked pointedly at Mark. "If we had a licence plate number we could at least run the car through the database."

"Hey," objected Mark. "If you want the licence number, YOU get in the damn pool."

"You're already wet," fired back Brass.

"Oh, and you've suddenly forgotten how to swim?"

Catherine watched the exchange between the two men with barely contained amusement. Grissom looked faintly annoyed. He cleared his throat to get their attention. "So have we got a description?" Grissom crouched down by the side of the pool.

"Late 90's Lexus SC300, 2 door, blue with tinted glass, sunroof ...." Mark trailed off as Grissom turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "What?" Catherine had to suppress a giggle.

"I meant the dead man," sighed Grissom. "What does he look like?"

"Oh him." Mark shrugged. "Scrawny white guy, black hair, mustache."

Catherine finished photographing the pool and surrounding area. "So, how did the car end up in the pool?"

Mark pointed upwards. "Looks like they've got a car park on the roof, and one of the barriers looks kinda bent."

Catherine looked up at the building. The building continued a couple of stories above the roof terrace, and there did seem to be a gap in a barrier. She started photographing the building. "Brass...."

"I've already sent a couple of uniforms up there to secure the scene."

"So our guy drowned after driving his car off the building and into the pool?" Catherine asked Grissom.

Brass and Mark exchanged glances. Grissom stood up and looked at the pair of them. "Probably not Catherine. I think there's something we're not being told."

"Our vic was shot," supplied Brass.

"How do you know he was shot?"

"Well the hole in his head is a bit of a clue," admitted Mark. "I figure if he's not dead, he's going to have one hell of a headache in the morning."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Catherine paused in front of the tow truck. She pointed at the apparently fresh dents and scratch marks in the white paintwork of the front of the cab. "So did you run into a wall?"

"I didn't do it no one saw me do it you can't prove anything," replied Mark. Catherine glared at him. He smiled somewhat apologetically. "Sorry. But I really don't know what happened. It was like that this morning when Josh tossed me the keys."

Catherine walked over to where Nick and Warrick had pulled up in their Tahoe. "Hey, "said Warrick. "Someone call for Jacques Cousteau?"

Catherine laughed. "Believe it. Grissom's waiting for you on the fifth floor." She pointed to the building entrance "And yes, I did say fifth floor. Nick, you and I are going to check out next door."

Warrick waved and headed off to join Grissom. Nick followed Catherine's gaze. "Who's that?"

"The guy that found the body, Mark Scott. He seems to know Brass pretty well."

Brass opened the cab door to the tow truck and was greeted enthusiastically by a large German Shepard dog.

"So does his dog," remarked Nick.

*****************

Grissom watched Warrick with an amused look on his face. "When you're ready."

"Sorry," said Warrick, snapping back to reality. "It's just not everyday I see a car in a swimming pool, never mind a pool on the fifth floor."

"I've checked around the pool, but there's nothing except where the mechanic got in and out of the pool. Catherine has photographed the scene. Which just leaves ..."

Warrick grimaced. "Let me guess. The pool. And I guess that's my job."

Grissom merely shrugged. Warrick removed his shoes and shirt and emptied his trouser pockets. Grissom pointed to the area of the pool near the now dwindling puddle of water. "Try here. This should be the drivers side, and the body is in the drivers seat."

Warrick carefully slid into the pool, took a deep breath, and dived under the water. He surfaced a short time later. "One dead male Caucasian. Bullet hole to the right temple. His head is slumped against the window, and it's a mess. Plenty of blood and grey matter. What is it with head wounds today?"

"Any water in the car?"

"Not much. The doors are closed and the windows are up. The sunroofs leaking a bit of water, but not too much."

"So the windows and doors were all closed when the car entered the pool. No one got out of the car, because that would have let water in. So this could be a really strange suicide or ..."

"... or someone else is still in the car? I'll take a look, but it's hard to see. The windows are tinted." Warrick dove down again. "I can't see anything from this side. I'll try from the passenger side." Warrick swam round the car, careful not to touch it, and dove down once more. "No one that I can see."

"OK. Well there's not much more we can do with the car in the pool. You'd better get out and we'll work out how we're going to get the car out. Maybe Nick and Catherine are having more luck on next door's roof."

*******************

"No skid marks." Nick was carefully photographing the rooftop parking area.

Catherine bent down. "There is some glass though. Looks like a broken tail light." She carefully placed the pieces in a bag. "Hmm, what do have we here?"

Nick joined her as she retrieved a swab and a bottle of fluid from her kit. She carefully swabbed the dark coloured spots she'd found, and then applied a few drops of fluid to the swab. They both watched as the swab changed color. "Positive for blood."

Nick started to photograph the blood spots. Catherine took a few more swabs and placed them in evidence bags. "Greg will be able to tell us if this is from our vic. What about the barrier?"

Nick was just photographing the barrier. "Well there's definitely a piece missing, but I don't see it down below. Maybe it's in the pool." He waved at Warrick and Grissom. "Hey guys, nice day for a swim." Warrick waved back. "That was one hell of a shot to get the car in the pool. A couple of foot either side and it would have either skidded into the wall round the terrace or straight into the apartment."

Catherine was busy examining the area surrounding the missing barrier. "What does this look like to you Nick?"

"Hmmm. Looks like scratch marks."

"Or tool marks?"

"Could be. What are you thinking Catherine?"

"Maybe the barrier was removed."

"But why would someone do that?"

"Good question Nick. Lets dust for fingerprints and get back to the lab."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The CSI's were sat round the table in the break room eating. "I don't believe you got a car in a fifth floor swimming pool on my day off," complained Sara. Nick and Warrick had been teasing her about missing all the fun on last night's shift.

"So where are we with yesterday's cases?" asked Grissom.

"Robbins says our heart attack was a blood clot," reported Catherine. "I've spoken to the widow, and it seems he'd just had surgery on a shoulder injury."

"So it's natural causes after all. Okay, how about your shotgun case Warrick?"

"The next door neighbor looks good for it. We've just got the final pieces of evidence to sort through, and then we'll get him in for interview."

"Good. And our car in the pool?"

Brass swallowed his mouthful of sandwich and picked up his pad. "Your vic was Paul Tranter, a 45 year old local with a minor record for petty fraud, and a reputation as a money lender. The car was registered to him, as was the gun you found in the car. He had a nice house, a healthy bank account, and a trophy wife." Catherine glared at him. He shrugged. "Oh, you know the type. Pretty, young, brunette, hobby is spending money."

"So when did she last see him?" asked Catherine.

"About midnight when he got a call on his cell phone. Said he had to go see a client. She went to bed, and only noticed he was missing the following morning. Said she thought he'd gone gambling or something and he'd turn up by lunch time." Brass frowned. "Got the feeling the only reason she's upset he's dead is because she had a dinner party planned, and now she's got to cancel."

"According to Dr Robbins, cause of death was the gun shot wound to the right temple." Catherine flicked through her pad. "Time of death is somewhat vague. Anywhere between 11pm and 8am, but he can't narrow it down anymore than that since the body was submersed in a car in a pool of warm water. Death was instantaneous. The shot was fired from fairly close quarters, not more than a couple of feet. Apart from the hole in his head, he was in good health."

"What about the apartment owner?" asked Grissom.

"Mr Hopkins claims he heard nothing at all," responded Brass. "Says he went to bed about midnight and everything was fine. He got up to go to work at 8:30am and found a car in his pool."

"So is this a suicide?" asked Sara.

"Not sure yet," replied Catherine. "There was gun shot residue on the vic's hands, and the gun we found in the car had been fired recently. The only fingerprints on the gun were Tranter's. Bobby's checking to see if the gun matches our fatal bullet."

"So we're not sure this was suicide, because ... ?" asked Sara.

"Well," said Catherine, "the entry wound doesn't look like a self inflicted shot to me. Besides, if he did shoot himself in the head, how did he manage to drive his car off the roof?"

"Maybe the car was already moving when he was shot?" suggested Sara.

"The engine wasn't running when the car was found," said Brass. "And if it had been running when it hit the water, you'd have had a lot more oil and petrol in the pool." Grissom looked at him quizzically. "What?" Brass held his hands up in mock surrender. "So I'm not allowed to do my own research now?"

"What about the parking lot?" asked Grissom.

"It's not exactly a secure area. It's supposed to be parking for residents only, but there's nothing to prevent anyone driving in there, and no security cameras either. One piece of the edge barrier was missing, wide enough for the car to have driven through. We got some smudges off the barriers either side of the missing piece, but no prints we can really work with," supplied Nick. "There are what look like tool marks on the bolts, so it could have been removed deliberately."

"Yeah," added Warrick, "and we didn't find the missing piece in the pool or on the terrace. There was no damage on the front of the Lexus to indicate it drove through the barrier either."

"Plus," continued Nick, "we got some glass from a tail light and some blood spots. Greg's running them to see if it's blood from our vic."

Warrick opened the file in front of him. "The Lexus did have some damage to the rear of it. Broken tail light and some dents. They look pretty fresh. We can check the glass you found to see if it matches."

"So what did happen?" asked Sara.

"That's what we've got to work out." Grissom rubbed his temples.

"Maybe someone rammed the car off the roof," suggested Brass.

"Maybe," mused Catherine. "And maybe that's why the barrier was removed. Did this guy have any enemies?"

Brass laughed. "He was a money lender. You'd be better off asking if he had any friends. We're checking his known associates now, but it's going to take a while."

"In the meantime," said Grissom "We check the tail light for a match, and we check the interior of the car while we're waiting for Greg's results."

*************

Catherine and Sara were just finishing going over the Lexus when Grissom put in an appearance. "Any luck?" he asked.

"Not much," admitted Catherine. "We've got some blood stains and some stray hairs. We've sent samples to Greg for analysis. All the blood stains on the inside of the car indicate that Mr Tranter was shot while he was in the car, and the trajectory of the bullet seems to indicate the shooter was outside the car. Probably shot through the passenger window, which must have been down at the time since it isn't damaged. The strange thing is we've got blood spatter on the outside of the passenger door."

"The outside?" repeated Grissom.

"Yes, right here." Catherine highlighted the stain with the ALS. "We've sent a sample up to Greg."

"From the blood spots, it looks like the blood dripped downwards," commented Grissom. "What about the steering wheel?"

"Well, there's plenty of blood on it, and prints that are probably Tranter's, but no prints in blood. We've just got some smudges."

"Somebody wearing gloves?" suggested Grissom.

Sara whistled. "Maybe they got blood on those gloves. I've got smudged blood on the drivers door handle."

"Well," surmised Catherine, "if they got blood on their gloves and transferred it to the outside of this car ..."

"Maybe they transferred some blood to their own vehicle too," finished Sara. "I'll get this up to Greg."

"Now all we need is a suspect and a vehicle," mused Grissom. "I'd better go check on that tail light."

************

Catherine came into the lab where Grissom was studying the tail light. "So how's it going?"

Grissom looked up from the microscope. "Perfect match. The glass you found on the roof matches the tail light from the Lexus. We've also got some paint transfer on the glass. Looks like a white vehicle was involved."

"Of course that doesn't mean a white car pushed our vic off the roof," mused Catherine. "But it does mean that there was someone else up on the roof. At the very least we have a possible witness."

"Of course, it might have taken something bigger than a car to push the Lexus off the roof, if that's what happened."

Catherine looked thoughtful for a moment. "The tow truck was white, and it had fresh scratch marks on it."

"Tow truck?" questioned Grissom.

"Yes. The one Mark was driving that morning."

Greg skidded to a halt in the doorway. "Good, you're both here. I've got the blood and fibre results back from your mechanical floater."

Grissom raised a questioning eyebrow. "Mechanical floater?"

"Yeah, you know ... car in pool ..." Grissom glared at Greg. Greg shrugged it off and continued. "Anyway, the blood in the car was from your vic, but the blood you lifted from the parking lot is definitely not. But it does match the blood on the passenger door."

"Well Bobby has just told me our fatal bullet wasn't fired from Tranter's gun, and there was a round missing from it. We're looking for another gun. Maybe Tranter got a shot off at his killer," pondered Catherine.

"Maybe," concurred Grissom. "So what about the fibres from the Lexus Greg?"

"Well, some are hairs from your vic. No surprise there. There are also a few long brunette hairs, female."

Catherine checked her notes. "According to Brass the widow is a brunette. We can ask for a sample to eliminate those hairs."

"All good so far," continued Greg. "However..."

"However what Greg?" Grissom sounded faintly irritated.

"However," continued Greg, completely unfazed, "some of the hairs from the Lexus are canine in origin. I can't tell the breed or anything, but if you find me a dog, I could compare mitochondrial DNA extracted from the hair shaft."

"Does Tranter have a dog?" Grissom asked Catherine.

"I don't know," said Catherine. "I'll get Brass to check"

"The mechanic had a dog with him didn't he? Damage to a white tow truck, dog hair. I'd say we have got enough circumstantial evidence to make it worth our while to bring in Mark Scott for a chat," said Grissom.

Catherine frowned. "Not sure Brass will be too keen on that idea. I think those two have a history."

"Yes, there are some things about this that have been worrying me as well," admitted Grissom. "For example, you find a dead body, you dial 911. But this guy didn't. He called Brass."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mark was sitting alone in the interview room when Grissom and Catherine arrived. Wearing clean faded gray jeans and a snug fitting black tee-shirt, he was leant back in his chair, contemplating the cracks in the ceiling. Brass and O'Riley were standing outside, deep in conversation. Brass greeted the CSIs. "Hey guys. O'Riley will be sitting in on this interview instead of me." From the tone of his voice, it wasn't a request, nor was it negotiable.

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"

Brass frowned at him. "Yes, but that's not your problem." He turned away to view the interview room through the mirrored window, effectively ending any further discussion. Catherine and Grissom exchanged puzzled glances and then entered the room, with O'Riley close behind them. Grissom and Catherine sat down at the table opposite Mark, while O'Riley took up a position leaning against the wall by the door.

"I already gave a statement," said Mark.

"I know," replied Grissom, " but we just want to ask you a few more questions."

"This official?"

"No."

Mark looked at O'Riley for confirmation and shrugged. "Okay, so what do you want to know?"

"What time did you get the call about the car in the swimming pool?" asked Grissom.

Mark thought for a minute. "Well I didn't take the call, so I don't know for sure. I'd just got in to work, so that would have been 9am. I'd only been there a few minutes when Josh came out and tossed me the keys to the truck and told me I had a retrieval job."

"Josh?" queried Catherine.

"Yeah, Josh Henderson. I assume he took the call. Check the time with him."

"So what time did you find the body?" asked Grissom.

Mark thought again. "About 9:30, I guess. Probably took me twenty minutes to get there from the garage, and then I had to get to the roof. Guess I wasted a couple of minutes wondering how the hell a car got in a fifth floor swimming pool." O'Riley smirked. "Allow for the time it took me to get in the pool and dive down, probably makes it about 9:30."

Catherine checked her notes. "The call to Brass was logged at 9:33am."

Mark shrugged. "Well there you go. About 9:30."

Grissom nodded. "You said originally that everyone else at the garage was busy. So what were the other mechanics busy with?"

"I don't know. Tommy was replacing an exhaust system, and I was supposed to be helping him. Ken turned up just after me, so he'd only got as far as the coffee machine. Not sure what Brian was doing."

"So how do you know they were all busy?" persisted Grissom.

"'Cause that's what Josh said when he threw me the keys. What exactly are you getting at?"

"I'm just trying to work out why you took that particular tow truck to that retrieval."

"Because Josh told me to go. Pain in the ass he may be, but he's the bosses son, and he's the one that allocates the jobs. And I took that particular truck because I had the dog with me and that's the only truck they allow dogs in."

"So why didn't Josh do the vehicle retrieval himself?"

Mark laughed. "Josh isn't a mechanic. Hell, he has problems telling a screwdriver from a wrench, much to the disgust of his old man apparently. Josh answers the phone, hands out the work and deals with the paperwork. Only mechanics do vehicle retrievals."

"I noticed that the front of the tow truck was damaged. Care to tell me how that happened?" asked Catherine.

Mark regarded her with a puzzled expression. "I already told you I don't know how it got damaged. It was like that when Josh tossed me the keys. I even made him sign it out as damaged so he couldn't blame me for it later. In fact, he seemed a bit upset when he saw the damage to the truck." Mark paused for a moment. "Thinking about it though, it must have only just got bumped, because I took that truck out the day before, and it wasn't damaged then."

Grissom looked up sharply. "Are you sure?"

Mark grinned. "Hell yes. Hendersons have a policy. 'You damage it, you pay for it.' If I'd taken the truck back damaged, Josh would have noticed and had a go at me for it. The truck was fine when I took it back."

"Did you recognise the dead man? His name was Paul Tranter." asked Catherine.

Mark shook his head. "No. I'd never seem him before. The name isn't familiar either."

"He'd never been to the garage?"

"No idea. I never saw him there. But I only worked there a week, and I only worked days."

"Worked there?" asked Catherine. "Why the past tense?"

Mark laughed. "I got fired for calling the cops when I found a dead body in a pool. Quote 'If the client wanted the police involved, he'd have called them himself.' Unquote." He looked towards the mirror. "No big deal. Saved me from quitting anyway." O'Riley followed Mark's gaze and grinned. Even Catherine had to smile. That remark was so obviously aimed at Brass, and she could imagine the sarcastic remark Brass would be firing back through the glass.

"Why would you quit?" asked Grissom.

"Well they've got a good reputation, but ... I dunno ... I'm not sure I can explain it really." He shrugged. "Well, not without getting done for slander anyway. It's not like I can prove anything."

"Try," insisted Grissom.

"Off the record?"

Grissom nodded.

"Okay. Well, I reckon they're fitting cheap parts to vehicles and charging for good ones. Plus the vehicle retrievals are a rip off."

"How do you mean?"

Mark leant back in his chair. "I was supposed to be fitting an exhaust system to a Lincoln. I stripped the old system off and went to the stores to get the new one. Josh told me he needed me on a retrieval and Ken would fit the new system. When I got back, Josh asked me to sign off on the exhaust system, but I didn't fit it, so I said I'd have to take a look at it first." He looked Grissom straight in the eye. "I'm not just some cowboy grease monkey. If I sign something off, then I'm accepting responsibility for the workmanship. Anyway, when I checked the car, it wasn't the exhaust the customer had asked for. Josh said the guy had called in and requested the cheaper system." He shrugged. "I can't prove he didn't."

"So did you sign off on the job?" asked Catherine.

Mark smiled. "No way. I told Josh to get Ken to do it, since he fitted the system. He wasn't a happy bunny." O'Riley smiled at the choice of phrase. Grissom merely looked puzzled.

"What about the vehicle retrievals?" asked Grissom.

"Well, I went out to one woman who'd run out of gas." He looked somewhat apologetically at Catherine. "Happens to the best of us. I always carry a can on the truck, so when I reached her, I just stuck some fuel in and charged her for the callout and the gas. Josh went ballistic. According to him, I should have towed her car all the way back to the garage, where a mechanic would have checked her car over properly, before refuelling it, and then charging her for the callout, the tow, the fuel, and the mechanics time. Rip off or what?" Mark looked somewhat disgusted.

"Certainly doesn't sound like the kind of garage I'm going to be using in the future," admitted Catherine.

"You say Josh 'went ballistic'," said Grissom.

"Yeah. He kept going on about how his old man would be upset, and ranting about me following company procedure if I wanted to keep my job." Mark grinned at the mirror again. "Like I was worried." O'Riley was now trying not to laugh. "It was just a job. Not like it was a career move or anything."

Grissom scratched the side of his head. "Obvious question. Where were you that night between midnight and 7am?"

"At home. In bed. Asleep. Til 6am anyway. Then I got up, went for a run, grabbed a shower and ate breakfast"

"Can anyone verify that?" asked Catherine.

Mark paused slightly before shaking his head. "Well a couple of the neighbors saw me head out for my run at 6, maybe someone saw me get back too."

"Would you be willing to give us a DNA sample?"

Got a warrant?"

"No," admitted Grissom.

Mark leant back on his chair. "Not a chance then."

"We just want to eliminate you from our enquiries."

Mark snorted. "Yeah right. And after you do that, you accidentally forget to destroy the sample, its ends up in a database and at some point in the future I get set up for something I didn't do with a DNA sample provided for an entirely innocent reason. No way."

There was a tap on the glass. Riley levered himself off the wall and headed outside. He returned a few moments later. "Want to take your shirt off Mark?"

Mark looked at him incredulously. "Take my shirt off? What the hell?"

"Just do it ok."

Mark looked at Riley, then at the mirror, before seeming to reach a decision.

"Well, I'm not sure why I'm doing this, but if it makes you happy, I guess I can humor you." Mark stood up and took off his tee-shirt. Grissom and Catherine regarded him carefully. There was a tattoo of a wolf on his upper left arm, and an eagle on his right arm, but apart from that, he was a slim but fairly well muscled young man, with a nice six pack and no fresh scars or apparent wounds. Catherine made a mental note to ask more suspects to remove their shirts for the purpose of elimination. This job definitely had its perks.

Sudden realisation hit Mark. "Ooohhh I get it. You have evidence someone else got hurt out at that pool and you thought it was me. Hence the DNA sample and take the shirt off. Well I got no cuts or scratches on me. Want me to take the jeans off to prove it?" Mark reached for his jeans zip as Catherine hid her laugh behind her hand. There were 3 loud knocks on the mirror. Mark grinned impishly. "I'll take that as a no."

Mark looked towards the mirror while he put his tee-shirt back on. "Well if you still want that DNA sample, I guess it's ok. As long as it doesn't end up in some strange database for eternity afterwards."

"It won't," reassured Catherine. "I'll personally make sure it's disposed of after we eliminate you." She retrieved a swab from her kit and stood up next to Mark. He looked up at her questioningly. "Just open your mouth for me."

Mark grinned wickedly. "Best offer I've had all week."

Catherine attempted to glare at him, although the affect was somewhat ruined by the hint of a smile playing about her mouth. Mark rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Catherine took the swab and placed the swab in a container. "Thank you."

"No worries. Anything else you want to know? Or am I free to go?" asked Mark.

Grissom looked at Catherine, who merely shrugged. "No. I think that about covers it. I take it we know where to find you if we have any more questions?"

"Yeah. You shouldn't have too many problems contacting me." He stood up to leave.

"Actually," offered Catherine, "I do have one more question, but it's not really related to the case."

Mark looked at her with interest. "Yeah? What?"

"How do you know Brass?"

Mark laughed and nodded towards the mirror. "Ask Brass."

**********

Outside the interview room, Grissom and Catherine compared notes. "Well, I get the feeling he's telling the truth. We have no motive, or any indication he even knew the victim. All we've got is that he has no alibi, he was driving a truck that may or may not have been involved, and he owns a dog." Catherine looked down the corridor to where Brass, Mark and O'Riley were talking by the reception desk.

"Damn," exclaimed Grissom. Catherine frowned at him. "We never asked about the dog." Grissom walked down the corridor towards Brass, Mark and O'Riley. "Could I ask one more question?"

Brass frowned but Mark just shrugged. "Sure."

"Your dog?"

It was Mark's turn to frown. He regarded Grissom with interest. "Ky?" When Grissom failed to respond, he continued. "German Shepard ... 3 years old."

"You had him with you in the tow truck that day?"

"Yeah. Why?" Mark turned to Brass. "Do I take it they've found trace of a dog somewhere?"

Brass glared at Grissom. "Probably."

Mark turned back to Grissom. "So you want to see if it was Ky?"

Grissom tilted his head on one side slightly. "We've found dog hair, and it would be helpful if we could eliminate your dog as the donor, if that's okay."

Mark turned towards reception and whistled. A large German Shepard dog came bounding into the corridor, skidding to a halt by the men. Mark pointed at the floor at his feet and the dog obediently sat down, looking up at his owner with obvious devotion. Mark tickled his ear. "Good boy Ky."

O'Riley had to turn away to hide the laughter. He couldn't ever remember seeing Grissom so stunned before. Even Brass was trying not to laugh. Mark crouched on the floor next to the dog, and looked up at Grissom. "Do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it yourself?"

Grissom had to force himself back to reality. "Er, I'll do it myself if you don't mind." Grissom knelt down next to Mark and Ky and put on a pair of plastic gloves pulled from his pocket. "I'll have to yank some fur."

"No problem." Mark tickled Ky's ear. "He doesn't bite." As Grissom reached towards the dog, Mark added "Much." Grissom looked askance at Mark, but was apparently reassured by the grin he found.

Grissom dug his fingers into the dog's coat and yanked out a small amount of fur. Ky just wagged his tail and even nuzzled Grissom. Grissom patted the dog on the head and then put the sample in the bindle proffered by a grinning Greg. "Thanks."

Mark scratched the dog under the chin, before standing up. The dog continued to look up at Mark, almost questioningly with his head on one side. Mark grinned and nodded. The dog immediately leapt up at Sgt O'Riley, placing his front paws on the big detective's shoulders and happily licking at his face.

O'Riley laughed and playfully pushed the dog away. "Get off me you crazy mutt."

Brass and Catherine laughed as Ky continued to fuss around O'Riley. "Looks like you've got a friend," remarked Catherine.

O'Riley laughed "He knows I have a dog treat in my pocket."

Grissom stood up slowly. "Er, Greg ..."

Greg mock saluted. "Analyze. On it boss." Greg set off down the corridor, leaving a strange rendition of 'How much is that doggy in the window' floating behind him.

Grissom watched him go with a look of disbelief. "I thought we had a sign saying no dogs?" he asked no one in particular.

Mark just about managed to keep an innocent expression on his face as he replied "Ky can't read."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Grissom parked outside the office at G. W. Henderson and Son's garage. As he got out of the car, Catherine was already pointing out the damaged tow truck. "See, the dents and scratch marks are just about the right height to have caused the damage to the Lexus." They went into the office.

The man at the back of the desk was on the phone. He motioned for them to take a seat. "No Sir, that's not a problem ... Okay Sir ... We'll see you on Friday then ... Goodbye." He hung up the phone and turned towards Grissom and Catherine. "Sorry about that. How can I help you?"

Grissom flashed his ID at the man. "Mr Henderson?" The man nodded in confirmation. "Josh Henderson?" Another nod. "I'm Gil Grissom and this is Catherine Willows from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We'd like to ask you a few questions about a vehicle retrieval you had a couple of days ago."

"Afraid you'll have to be more specific than that. We get quite a few vehicle retrievals here."

"This one was pretty memorable," said Catherine. "It involved a fifth floor swimming pool and a dead body."

The man ran his fingers through his greasy brown hair. "Oh, that one. Mmm." He stood up. "Well I've already spoken to the police..."

"We know, "interrupted Grissom, "but we just have a few questions. It would be helpful if you could answer them for us"

The man seemed to think for a minute, before sighing and sitting back down. "Well as long as this isn't going to take too long."

"Who took the call?" asked Catherine.

"That would have been me. I take most of the calls, at least on the day shift anyway."

"Okay Mr Henderson, so what time did the call come in?"

Henderson opened a ledger on his desk. "Let me just check. I make a record of all the calls we get in here. Oh, here we are. The call came in at 8:45am from a Mr Hopkins. Wanted a car removed from his pool. A fairly straight forward retrieval, so I sent the new guy."

"New guy?" queried Grissom.

"Yes, Mark Scott. Good mechanic I suppose, but a bit unorthodox."

"What do you mean, unorthodox?" asked Catherine.

Henderson ran his fingers through his hair again. "Well he never liked finishing other peoples work off, and he objected strongly to other people finishing his jobs. I kept telling him that we don't always get to see a job through here. Retrievals are always our priority. We don't like to keep the customer waiting." He aimed an attempted smile at Grissom and Catherine, but there was no warmth behind it.

"You're talking about Mr Scott in the past tense," remarked Grissom.

"Ah, well he no longer works for us." Again, Henderson ran his fingers through his hair. Catherine was beginning to realize why his hair was so greasy. "We, er , had to let him go."

"Because of his unorthodox methods?" suggested Catherine.

"Yes, yes." Henderson grabbed at the suggestion gratefully. "Unorthodox methods. Exactly."

"So did he call you after he found the body that day?" asked Grissom, looking round the small office with interest. There were several bookcases full of vehicle manuals, a few certificates, most of which seemed to be to a W. Henderson, and a photograph of three men and a dog, apparently on a camping trip by a lake. Grissom recognised Henderson as one of the men in the photo and one of the other men looked like a bald, older version.

"Yes. Yes he did."

"About what time?"

"Let's see..." Henderson referred to his ledger once again. "That would be 9:36."

Grissom noted that Mark had called Brass before calling his employer. "And what did he say?"

Henderson laughed, although to both Catherine and Grissom it sounded more than just a little false. "He was a little upset actually. Apparently the client had not divulged all the necessary information about the job..."

"You mean no one told him the pool was on the fifth floor," interrupted Catherine.

"Yes ... quite. Anyway, he, er, he said there was a problem and he could be quite a while."

"Did he mention a dead body?"

"Er, yes, yes he did. He also said he'd called the police." Henderson fidgeted nervously in his chair.

"How many mechanics do you employ Mr Henderson?" asked Grissom.

"Nine or ten, but they don't all work the same shifts. There are three shifts. Four or five mechanics work days, three work evenings and two work nights. Most of the repair work is done during the day, so we just do retrievals on a night, unless it's really slow." Henderson managed a weak smile and checked his ledger again. "There were four mechanics in that day."

"And three tow trucks?"

"Yes. That's right."

"Are all three of them white?"

"Yes. Company livery. White with red lettering and our logo on the doors and hood. They're identical."

"Would it be alright for us to take a look at the tow truck outside?" asked Grissom. "The one with the damage to the front. That is the one that Mr Scott drove that day?"

"Yes, that's the truck. But we might need it. For a retrieval. We're very busy"

"Why did he take that particular truck?" asked Catherine. "Were the other trucks out?"

"No. The other trucks were available, but he had his dog with him, and we only allow dogs in that truck. We don't want them making a mess of all our trucks and that one is the oldest."

"So do your other mechanics have dogs as well?"

"No, just my father. He never goes anywhere without Basil." Henderson flashed Grissom a lopsided grin, which actually seemed genuine. "Basil is his Labrador. He's crazy about that dog."

"Well it won't take me long to check the truck," Grissom reassured him. "I just want to take a look at the damage. Maybe take a sample of the paint if that's ok."

Henderson ran his finger round his collar. "My father usually deals with things like this. I'm just not sure. I mean, the truck was already damaged when Scott took it. He made me write it down in the ledger. See?" Henderson pointed to the entry. "I never said he damaged the truck."

Grissom inclined his head slightly. "Neither did we. Is your father around? Maybe we could talk to him about this."

Henderson shook his head. "No. My father prefers to work nights." He smiled somewhat apologetically. "Says it's cheaper to do it himself than to pay another mechanic."

Catherine rose to leave. "Well we can always come back with a warrant for the truck."

"No, that's okay. "Henderson threw his hands in the air as if admitting defeat. "The truck is outside. Take all the samples you need. But if I get a call for a retrieval..."

"I promise we won't stop you from working. Thank you for your cooperation Mr Henderson." Grissom rose and followed Catherine out of the office.

*******

"The sample of paint we took from Henderson's tow truck is a perfect match for the transfer paint on the broken tail light on our vic's car." Catherine explained to Grissom. "And according to Greg, the blood smear we lifted from the cab handle matches Tranter's blood. We're still waiting for a DNA analysis on the fibres from the cab."

Grissom looked puzzled. "So you're telling me that the tow truck that was there to recover the car was the same one that pushed it off the roof in the first place?"

"Well it certainly looks like it," affirmed Catherine.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Brass knocked on the open door to Grissom's office as he entered and lowered himself into a spare chair. He opened the file and put it on the desk in front of him. "So we've finished checking Mr Tranter's known associates. Most of them owed him a small amount of money, and most of them have an alibi for the murder. Amazing how many of them were happy to admit to an all night gambling session." Brass turned the pages of the report slowly. Grissom waited patiently. Brass had barely acknowledged him since they'd questioned the young mechanic, and even now he was avoiding eye contact. "Only a few of them own a dog, and none of them had access to Henderson's tow truck." Grissom winced at the sarcastic tone. Brass was definitely upset at him.

"I was just following the evidence ..." he started.

Brass cut him off abruptly. "Yeah. Right. Anyway, we managed to 'acquire' a list of Mr Tranter's clients." He smiled to himself. "The good widow was only too willing to be helpful in any way she could once we explained the facts of life, death and the IRS. So, we checked the list of names, and there's a W. Henderson on there, with a fairly substantial amount of money owed."

"Henderson?"

"Correct."

"I think we're going to need a warrant for that garage Jim."

Brass dropped the document onto Grissom's desk. "Consider it done."

*****

This time the CSIs turned up in force at Henderson's garage. Brass and Grissom entered the office. Henderson stood up to greet them. "Mr Grissom. How can I help you?"

Brass flashed his ID and dropped the search warrant onto the desk. "We have a warrant to search your premises."

Henderson opened and closed his mouth several times in succession, doing a more than passable impression of a goldfish. "Sear .. search ... warrant?"

"Yes. We're going to search your premises." Brass watched Grissom as the CSI donned his gloves and started to walk around the office.

"W ... wh ... why?"

Brass flashed Henderson one of his most unpleasant smiles. "In regard to the murder of Mr Paul Tranter. Please take a seat Mr Henderson."

Henderson stood staring at the detective for a few moments, before finally collapsing back into his chair.

Grissom took the photograph down from the wall. "Nice photo. Camping trip?"

Henderson turned to look at him. "Huh? Oh. Yes. A couple of years ago."

"I recognise you, but who are the other two men?"

"Oh. My father and my younger brother."

"So does your brother work here as well?"

"No … no … he's … well … he's ..."

Brass started looking through the ledger. "He's what Mr Henderson?"

Henderson took a deep breath. "Dead. He's dead." He looked at the floor.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Grissom hung the photo back on the wall.

Brass started opening desk drawers.

"Hey. You can't do that." Henderson sounded agitated. He was fidgeting nervously in his chair. When Brass merely chuckled and carried on opening drawers, Henderson turned to Grissom. "Make him stop," he pleaded. "He can't do that."

"I'm afraid he can do that Mr Henderson. We have a search warrant, remember?"

Brass suddenly stopped and whistled under his breath. Grissom joined him at the desk. Brass took a pen from his jacket pocket and used it to remove a gun from the drawer. Grissom opened an evidence bag and Brass carefully dropped the gun into the bag. "Care to explain this Mr Henderson?"

Henderson lowered his gaze to the floor. Grissom and Brass exchanged shrugs. Warrick stuck his head through the open doorway. "Hey Gris, Brass. You guys may want to take a look at this."

Out by a dumpster in the yard, Grissom, Brass and Warrick stood round the piece of metal. "What do you think?" asked Warrick. "Our missing piece of barrier?"

"Could be. Let's get it back to the lab." Grissom turned round trying to locate Nick. He spotted him in one of the garage bays, searching through an assortment of tools. "How's it going Nick?"

Nick gave him the thumbs up. "Plenty of candidates."

"Let's bag them and get back to the lab. Jim, I think it would be a good idea to bring Mr Henderson along with us."

Brass nodded and motioned for one of the uniformed officers to collect Josh.

************

Henderson looked very nervous. He was biting his nails and fidgeting in the chair in the interview room. He eyed Brass nervously. Brass perched on the stainless steel table and stared back. Josh quickly decided the floor was much more interesting. Grissom started the questioning.

"So how did your tow truck get damaged Mr Henderson?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know how your truck got damaged?"

"No."

"But I thought you had a policy. 'You damage it, you pay for it.' So when did you notice the truck was damaged?"

"When Scott took the truck to that pool retrieval." Henderson shifted his gaze from the floor to the ceiling. "I never noticed before that."

"So was it damaged the day before?"

"I don't know. Could have been that way for a while and I just didn't notice it."

"How about the piece of barrier we found in your dumpster?" asked Brass. "Do you know how that got there?"

"No."

"Okay, so let's talk about the gun we found," said Brass. "Is it your gun?"

"No! Why are you asking me all these questions?" Henderson jumped to his feet.

"Sit down Mr. Henderson. We're asking these questions because the gun was used in a homicide and your fingerprints are all over it."

Henderson's eyes widened and he sat back abruptly on the chair. "I came down here of my own free will and now you're accusing me of murder!"

"Calm down, Mr. Henderson. No one is accusing you of anything," said Brass, calmly standing up. "So had you seen the gun before?"

Henderson glared at Brass. "I told you NO!" He met Brass with a fierce stare.

Brass calmly stared back, unintimidated. "Are you telling me that you'd never seen that gun before? You didn't know it was in your desk drawer? And you've no idea why your fingerprints are all over it?"

Henderson scowled, realizing how useless it was to continue with the denials. "The gun's not mine," he said after a long pause, refocusing his gaze at a point in the wall somewhere over Grissom's left shoulder.

"So who does it belong to?"

"I found it."

"Where?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember where you found a gun? That's a pretty important detail to forget."

Henderson fixed his eyes firmly on a spot on the floor. "I want my lawyer."

Brass sighed and looked at Grissom. "Okay Mr Henderson. We'll contact your lawyer." The two men left the room, leaving Henderson staring at a point on the table in front of him.

"So what do you think?" asked Grissom.

"He knows a lot more than he's saying."

"Based on what?"

Brass just shrugged. "Call it a hunch."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Grissom went to check on the evidence. First stop was Nick, who was busily comparing the tool markings found on the barrier to tools recovered from the garage.

"Any luck?" asked Grissom.

"Yeah. Take a look." Nick moved to one side, allowing Grissom to peer down the microscope. "Looks like a match to me. Unfortunately, anyone in that garage had access to these tools. They were just on a work bench. And I have way too many overlapping fingerprints for them to be any use."

Grissom nodded agreement as Warrick appeared in the doorway behind them. "Hey guys. The barrier we found in the dumpster matches the missing car park barrier."

"And Nick's found the tool used to remove the barrier." Grissom stood up. "Good work guys." Nick and Warrick grinned at each other. "Looks like we have a new suspect."

********

Greg was dancing round the lab to the loud music blaring from the stereo as usual. Grissom turned the volume down. Greg whipped round. "Hey." The protest died when he realized it was Grissom. "Ah, I was just going to page you boss."

"Well I've saved you the effort. So what have you got for me?"

"I got your results boss." Grissom continued to look at him. "The hairs from the tow truck. A selection of human hair collected from the drivers side ..."

"A lot of different mechanics drive the tow truck," conceded Grissom.

"But from the passenger side ..." Greg paused for dramatic effect. Grissom pushed his glasses back up his nose and glared at Greg. "More human hair of varying types, plus canine hair, but this time ..." Grissom raised an enquiring eyebrow. Greg took the hint. "Two different dogs."

"Two dogs?" echoed Grissom.

"Yep. Definitely two dogs. The hairs are different. One of them matches the dog that was in here yesterday with your grease monkey."

"Well we already know that Ky was in the tow truck."

"Yes we do," said Greg. "But we also know the hair from the Lexus didn't come from his dog. The hair isn't a match. Ky wasn't near the Lexus. However, here's the good bit." Greg was looking fairly smug now. "The second dog does match the hair from the Lexus."

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "You're sure?" Greg looked hurt. "Sorry Greg. I know you're sure." He rubbed his temples wearily.

"For someone who's following the evidence, you're missing the obvious here Gil." Grissom turned to face Brass who was smirking in the doorway. He regarded the detective with a wary look.

"You're saying I'm missing something?"

"Hell yeah."

"Care to fill me in?"

"Walk and talk," suggested Brass, throwing a meaningful glance in Greg's direction. Greg blushed and turned back to his work. Grissom set off down the corridor. Brass leaned over and turned the volume back up on the stereo before following Grissom.

"So what am I missing, Sherlock?" asked Grissom, as the two men headed for his office.

Brass chortled. "Remember Tranter's list? He was owed money by W. Henderson, not J. Henderson. The guy we have in interrogation is Josh Henderson." Grissom sat down at his desk as Brass practically dropped onto the couch. "Plus, I checked with ballistics." Grissom looked at him expectantly. "The gun we found in Josh's desk was the murder weapon, but it wasn't his gun. It was registered to a W. Henderson."

"W? Oh, of course, it says G.W. Henderson on the tow truck. So, W. Henderson is the father. So it's the father's gun?"

Brass grinned. "No. George William Henderson is the garage owner. He has two sons. Joshua, who we currently have in interrogation, and his younger brother, Warren."

"The younger brother in the photograph? But he's dead Jim."

"I checked on that too. Warren Henderson committed suicide three months ago. Shot himself in the head. They never recovered the gun."

"Are you telling me you think Warren committed suicide using his own gun, and this same gun was then used to murder Paul Tranter?"

"Don't think it, know it. I got ballistics to check. Same gun. They're checking to see if it's the gun we found in Henderson's office"

"And this gun wasn't found at the time?"

"No. And guess who found the body."

Grissom raised one hopeful eyebrow. "Josh?"

"Nope. It was the father. You know Gil. Bill Henderson. The guy that owns the garage, has access to the tools and the tow trucks, works nights and owns a dog." Brass grinned at Grissom. Grissom just groaned.

************

Catherine watched through the mirror as Brass and Grissom questioned Bill Henderson. Hair samples taken from George Henderson's Labrador matched both the tow truck and the Lexus. How had Greg phrased it? "All alleles seen in a partial DNA profile from the hairs are consistent with Basil the Labrador." Catherine smiled to herself.

"So on the night in question, you were at the garage all night. Is that right Mr Henderson?" asked Brass.

"Yes," sighed Bill.

"And there was another mechanic there who will back that up."

"Yes. Stan Hammonds."

"Even though your own records show that Hammonds went out on a breakdown call about 11.30pm and was gone for three hours?"

Henderson merely shrugged and scratched his arm absent mindedly.

"So, how did the tow truck get damaged?"

"No idea. Ask Stan."

"But Stan didn't take that tow truck out. In fact, according to your own records, no-one took that truck out all night. There was no damage on it before the night shift, but it was damaged by the morning. How do you explain that Mr Henderson?"

"I don't."

"How did you hurt your arm Mr Henderson?" asked Grissom.

"My ... my arm?"

"Yes, your arm. You keep touching it, as though it's distracting you in some way."

"My arm's fine."

"Would you mind removing your shirt please Mr Henderson."

"No way am I removing my shirt for you."

Brass dropped an official document on the table in front of Henderson. "This warrant says you are. Remove your shirt please sir."

Henderson glowered at the two men, before finally removing his shirt. His right arm was heavily bandaged.

"Let's try again shall we. How did you hurt your arm Mr Henderson?"

Henderson said nothing.

"Shall I tell you what I think Mr Henderson?" asked Brass. "I think you arranged to meet Mr Tranter in the car park that night. He was demanding money from you, to pay off your son's debts, but you decided to take another option. You decided to shoot him, but you weren't quite fast enough. You got a shot off at Tranter alright, but he realised what you were doing and he managed to grab his gun and pull the trigger first. Luckily for you, he only shot you in the arm. He wasn't that lucky. Your shot him in the head, killing him. You removed a safety barrier and used your tow truck to push his car off the roof, presumably hoping it would look like an accident. Maybe you thought it would hit the street below and the gas tank would explode, but in the dark you picked the wrong side of the building and it landed in a swimming pool instead."

"You can't prove any of this," snapped Henderson, putting his shirt back on.

"Actually, I can, "said Grissom. "We have your blood in the parking area, on Tranter's car and in your tow truck. We have hair from your dog in Tranter's car. We've matched your tow truck to the damage to the rear of his car. We found the missing piece of barrier in your dumpster, the tools used to remove it in your garage, and the murder weapon in your son's desk drawer."

Henderson blanched. "Josh had the gun?"

Grissom and Brass exchanged glances. "Yeah," confirmed the detective. "You didn't know he'd moved it. So where had you left it?"

"In the glove compartment." Henderson's bravado evaporated. "I wondered where it had gone. I thought maybe one of the mechanics had taken it. I didn't think of Josh. He never drives the trucks."

"So why did you shoot Tranter?" asked Brass.

"Because he killed my son."

"The report says your son committed suicide Mr Henderson."

"Well, he drove him to it. Warren was a good kid, and a good mechanic. He worked hard, but he played hard too. He got into gambling, and owed a bit of money. I bailed him out a couple of times, but when I eventually said no, he went to Tranter for money. Warren had problems repaying, and Tranter got heavy. If Warren had just told me ..." He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "I would have helped him if I'd known he needed the money that bad, but he decided to deal with it himself. Too much like me that way. Stubborn. I never thought he'd ... he'd ..."

Henderson dropped his head to the table and actually started to sob. Brass motioned for a uniformed officer, and then he and Grissom exited the room to join Catherine. "How did it go?" she asked, although she already knew.

Brass smiled at Catherine. "Case closed. I've just got the paperwork to complete. The father for murder and the son for withholding evidence, though that'll probably get thrown out." He set off down the corridor.

Catherine stared after his retreating back. "Damn, now I'm never going to find out how he knows Mark."


End file.
